


a toast

by simplyclockwork



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock BBC
Genre: Fluff, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:14:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyclockwork/pseuds/simplyclockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New Years Eve at 221B</p>
            </blockquote>





	a toast

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by anime-bookworm on tumblr

New Years Eve brought silver fairy lights and glass decor to 221B; winked and shone at the edges of the window frame and in the over-due Christmas tree in the corner, dropping brown pine needles on the floorboards and filling the flat with the scent of thick, wet soil.

“We really ought to throw that out, you know.” John’s voice drifted from the kitchen, preceding him as he emerged from the doorway with two glasses in his hands, bottle of champagne balanced under his arm. Sherlock looked up from his laptop; spared the dying tree a glance and flicked his fingers dismissively.

John sighed; rolled his eyes and settled on the edge of the coffee table. Setting down the glasses, he held out the champagne bottle, eyebrows raised. Sherlock typed away; ignored the offer for five minutes, then shut the computer and tucked it away beneath the couch cushions.

“Very fancy,” he commented, taking the bottle and tilting it to read the label. “Stay within the budget?”

John gave him a look, and the detective subsided.

“Very well,” Sherlock murmured; popped the cork and waited for the fizzing to settle. He filled both glasses, and the flatmates settled in a relaxed silence, champagne in hand and bubbles on their tongues.

“Toast?” John offered, holding up his glass. Sherlock turned, pulled from his thoughts, and tilted his head in a mild nod.

“To?”

John grinned; rubbed at his thigh and tipped his glass towards the detective. “To a new year; to not getting shot and to plenty of not-too gory serial murders, and you not tormenting the wall.”

Sherlock smirked; dipped his head.

“Sounds reasonable enough.” He murmured, and their glasses clinked, clear bells ringing in the silence.


End file.
